This is My Design
by KayYaoi
Summary: A new criminal has gathered the attention of the FBI and only Will Graham can catch him. With Will's sanity on the line and the murders becoming more erratic, the odds are against them in catching this self-proclaimed vigilante. Or are they? Only one man can give them the upper hand in this case, and that man is no other than Hannibal Lecter. Hannigram fic!
1. Chapter 1: A Tragic Beginning

**A/N:** This is a Hannigram (Hannibal x Will) fic. There will be slash in later chapters. If that is not your cup of tea, then don't read this story.

This is my first Hannibal story, so bear with me here! Hopefully it will turn out alright and you all will like it.

**This is My Design**

By KayYaoi

Chapter 1: A Tragic Beginning

**Rockford, Illinois**

**Wednesday, October 27th, 1990**

**1:39 AM**

_He entered the house through the front door, armed with nothing but his gloved hands and an intention that was far from pure. It was after midnight. The house was quiet and all of its residents were sound asleep in their beds, completely unaware of his presence there._

_The vigilante grinned as wide as the moon as it's light shined through the blinds on all of the windows-a waning gibbous._

_The man had came there with only one goal, only one intention: to kill. They would have to pay._

_The man headed for the master bedroom, having very well known exactly where it was. His footfalls were heavy, but relatively silent compared to the rest of the noise in the house. As he approached the room, he could see light coming from underneath the door, most likely from a television._

_The killer grasped the door handle tightly and turned it, finding that it was locked. __**Interesting...**_

_He took a step back and lifted his leg up from the floor behind him. Using his weight and momentum, the vigilante kicked his leg forward hard and knocked the door down._

_The wood fell with a thud, causing a racket that woke up the sleeping couple. The wife screamed and pulled up the covers around her as if they would protect her. Her husband quickly got out of bed and reached behind the headboard, pulling out a metal bat painted red and silver. Apparently he intended to add a bit more red._

_"Hey!" The husband shouted. "What do you think you're doing?!" The husband gripped the bat and ran straight towards the vigilante. The criminal ducked, narrowly dodging the blunt object. The vigilante retaliated by quickly jabbing the husband in the stomach and bringing his elbow down upon his head when he doubled over._

_The wife shrieked and got up, rushing over to her husband. She laid a hand on her husband's back._

_"Please!" She cried out. "Don't hurt him anymore! Don't hurt us!" The criminal just stood there with a blank expression on his face, obviously not moved by the wife's please. "Take what you want, just please don't hurt us!" The criminal gave a small smile at that. It was a bit unusual for the situation._

_"Very well." He said. "I will take what I came here for." He picked up the bat that had fallen on the floor when the husband collapsed and gripped it tightly. He enjoyed the way the bat felt sliding across his gloved hand. He swung it a few times, testing the quality, the grip, the strength._

_"Oh, this bat is very nice." He said. The husband groaned and looked up at him with a pained expression on his face._

_"If you want it, you can have it."_

_The criminal smiled. "Are you fond of this?" He said._

_"A little. I did play some of my best games with it."_

_"I see." The criminal remained silent for a moment. "I could never take an item with such sentimental value from you."_

_"If you want it, you can ha-"_

_"No." The criminal cut him off. "I have a better idea." He raised his arm, bat in hand, high. The wife whimpered and the husband visually shuddered. The fear in their eyes was well-defined. It was such a beautiful sight. The vigilante would surely treasure it in his mind forever._

_And with that he swung. Screams filled the air as husband and wife were beaten to death in their own home._

* * *

He gasped as the vision left him. He found himself crouching towards the floor with his right hand in a fist as if it were gripped around something. He was standing right where the bodies had been found.

There was no doubt in his mind that the events of last week had gone any differently.

There were blood stains all over the room and the scent of death filled the room. It was nauseating and it made him feel uneasy. The bed looked as if it had been moved, the blankets were hanging off the bed on one side touching the floor, there were scratch marks and dents in the carpet-all obvious signs of struggle. This killer was ruthless and showed them no mercy.

The man felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, whipping his head around to see who it was. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw who it was.

"Are you alright?" Said Crawford. All Will could do was nod his head. Perspiration moistened the skin on his forehead and scalp, dampening his hair. "Are you sure?"

Will nodded again and wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, not because he was cold, but because he felt nervous and over-the-edge. He suddenly felt the need to be hugged, which was not uncommon when he became the criminal-when he put himself into their perspective and acted out their actions just as they had done.

This had not been the cleverest of criminals, but he had certainly covered up his tracks well enough. They hadn't found a single fingerprint that might have been related to the case.

"What can you tell me about this guy. What's his deal?"

Will shuddered. "He thinks himself to be a law enforcer, a vigilante." He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "He punishes people who commit acts that are illegal or socially unacceptable. Crimes." Jack listened attentively, taking all of the information in.

"Why them?" Jack said.

"I did some research on the Turners. A few years back they had been accused of kidnapping and abusing a child physically and sexually. They were trialed by the State's Supreme Court, but were found innocent. The charges were dropped." Jack nodded.

"I guess he thought that wasn't good enough. He wanted to punish them himself." Jack said.

"Or herself, rather. We don't know for sure."

Will turned and walked out of the room, sliding his hands into the pockets of his grey slacks. Jack followed him out of the house. There were FBI vehicles parked around the yard and the agents themselves were scanning the house for clues.

"Our suspect is most definitely male," Will said. "Don't ask me how I know. It's just a feeling, I suppose."

"I understand." Said Jack.

Will walked over to the passenger's side of Jack's car and tugged on the door handle. It was locked. Jack pressed a button on the key in his hand and the car beeped twice. Jack chuckled and opened the door on the driver's side, getting inside and shutting it behind him. Will got in on the other side and sighed as he settled into his seat. He closed his eyes, leaning back. Images of the crime flashed through his head.

When it became unbearable, he opened his eyes again.

Jack had started the car and it was now humming quietly. "We can worry more about the case tomorrow. You need to get some rest."

Will whimpered inwardly at the thought of sleep. There was no doubt that he would have yet another nightmare. He usually had nightmares anyway, but they were at their worst at the start of each new case. He would wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, and lying on a damp bed. He would get up, change into a dry shirt and lay a towel over the wet spot. Then he'd lie back down and eventually fall asleep again. He sometimes ended up having another nightmare and jolting awake, but by that time, it was time for him to get up and get ready for work.

Oh, how he dreaded going home at night. No one knew about his nightmares, but Will was sure that Hannibal at least suspected as such. It was written all over his face.

As much as Will hated to admit it, he actually enjoyed his talks with the man. He was an interesting person and had even taught Will a little about French and Italian cuisine. He wasn't nearly as dazzling as Hannibal was, but that was just fine with him.

Hannibal had his suits and he had his button-up shirts and slacks. That was just fine with him.

Jack drove him back to the hotel that they were all staying at. Alana had come along with them as well as Hannibal, both more or less there ensure his well-being, although Will assumed that they had just come to help with the case.

Naturally, Alana had her own room. Crawford also had his own room and Hannibal had insisted upon sharing a room with Will.

"I am his psychiatrist. It would be best for me to be there for him while we are away." The man had said.

Will thought it was a load of bull, but the man did sound pretty convincing. If he wanted to stay with Will, he could have just said so. No one would have questioned it. The two of them had grown from something more than acquaintances. They had become more like friends. Will even went to see Hannibal at his office more often, even when he didn't need to, and they would have conversations that sometimes lasted for hours. He had grown fond of the man's company and he was sure that Hannibal felt the same.

It took them 30 minutes for them to reach the hotel. Why they had chosen one so far away from the scene, Will didn't know. He remember Hannibal saying something about it being the nicest one in the entire city, which it probably was. Hannibal had high standards about what he thought was "nice", so if he said it was the nicest hotel in the city, it was the nicest.

Will walked lazily through the lobby, fatigue finally getting the best of him. He stepped into the elevator, Crawford coming in after him and pressing the number 5, the floor that all of their rooms were on. The elevator was not a slow one, but to Will it felt like minutes had passed before the finally reached their floor. Jack stepped out and Will behind him. They said their goodbyes and went off to their separate rooms.

Will found Hannibal setting plates down on a table that he had pulled between their beds. He had set silverware on napkins on the pillows and two glasses of wine in between the plates, for it was a narrow table. The room was dim. Hannibal had only turned on a few of the lights, not including the one above the nightstand.

Typical.

Hannibal looked up upon the door opening and smiled lightly as Will entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"Welcome back, Will." Hannibal greeted.

"Uh, hey, Hannibal," Will said lamely. "What's all this?"

"Dinner," Hannibal replied. "And a somewhat relaxing environment to ease you off the day."

Will just stared in awe at the scene before him, wondering how Hannibal had managed it all.

"Wow, this is... This is really nice. How did you..."

"I will not reveal my secrets to you," Hannibal spoke up. "Because then it would not be as surprising." Will nodded. He agreed with Hannibal's logic on that matter.

Sometimes Hannibal reminded Will of a magician: he pulled off so many magnificent things and never revealed his secrets.

"I was only able to cook one course with such limited resources, but this will suffice."

Will just nodded and stood by the door. Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him. The special agent sighed and walked over, taking off his jacket and sitting on the bed on the left. His silverware clanked at the movement. Hannibal took his seat on the opposite bed. There was barely any room for Will's knees and they were pressed against the edge of the table.

"So, Hannibal. Tell me about this dish." Hannibal immediately perked up at that.

"I have prepared grilled turkey slices with a light gravy, sprinkled with parsley and served with fava beans and pickled beets." Will smiled lightly at the other.

"It looks delicious." He said, picking up his knife and fork from his pillow and draping the napkin over his lap. He cut off a small portion of one of the slices of turkey and brought it up to his lips. He took a bite out of the already small portion. His eyes widened in amazement.

"This is wonderful," he said. "And to think that you're still able to make such exquisite dishes like this so far away from your kitchen. It's amazing." Hannibal smiled at the praise and began digging into his food as well, placing the napkin in his lap beforehand.

About five minutes later, Will's cellphone rang. He set his silverware down and reached into his pocket, pulling out the cellular device. He flipped up the top and pressed "talk".

"Hello?" He answered.

"Will?" It was Dr. Bloom. "It's Alana. I need you to come back to the crime scene. Quick."

"Why? What's the matter?"

"I can't explain now. Just get down here. Bring Jack with you."

"Alright. We'll be there soon." Will hung up and stood, heading towards the door. Hannibal stood as well.

"Where are you going?" The man asked. Will turned towards him, putting on his jacket.

"Back to the crime scene."

"I'm going with you."

Will sighed. "You can come along if you want, but hurry. We need to leave now." Will opened the hotel room door and walked across the hall to Jack's room. He frantically knocked on the door and not a moment later, it opened to reveal Jack.

"Will, what's the matter?" Jack asked, obviously confused and worried about Will's sudden arrival.

"Dr. Bloom just called. We need to go back to the crime scene."

"I understand. Let me get my coat." Jack hurried away and Hannibal came out of the room across the way, now wearing a tan trench coat over his suit.

Jack returned wearing his coat as well, shutting the door behind him. The three of them hurried down the hall to the elevator and went down to the first floor. As soon as the door opened, they were practically dashing out. Will nearly ran a lady over only to bump into a wall. Pain surged through his shoulder, but he ignored it and ran to catch up with the others.

Whatever was waiting for them at the crime scene couldn't have been good.

Will could hear the fear in Dr. Bloom's voice.

* * *

Thanks for reading my story! This is the first story I've written for Hannibal and I hope you enjoyed it.

Please write a review and tell me your thoughts. Feel free to give any feedback. No flames, please.


	2. Chapter 2: A Vigilante's Purpose

A/N: Since the first chapter turned out alright and I'm in the mood for some writing, I wrote another chapter for you guys. I hope you like it! Enjoy!

**This is My Design**

by KayYaoi

Chapter 2: A Vigilante's Purpose

FBI vehicles filled the lot of the Turner house. It was dark. The lights atop the vehicles illuminated the yard. Agents were not scrambling about for evidence as they usually were. Something was wrong.

Will got out of the car on the passengers side, Hannibal and Jack following close behind. The special agent frantically searched for Dr. Bloom. There were so many officers and agents at the crime scene that night. It would certainly be difficult to single out one person amongst the crowd.

Or at least, Will thought it would have been.

He spotted the brunette and quickly walked over to her. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder. The woman jumped and whipped around to see who was bothering her, but gave a sigh of relief once she saw who it was.

"Oh, thank goodness, Will," she said as Crawford and Lecter jogged up behind him. "And I see you brought Jack and Hannibal with you. Good. We'll need them both."

Will adjusted his glasses. The glare from all of the light was affecting his vision.

"Dr. Bloom, what happened?" She visibly paled at that. All three men gave her an intrigued look.

"I-I don't know how it happened," she began. "There was a small group of agents scoping the back yard for clues. We heard gunfire and went to see what was going on. By the time we got there, it was too late. All of them were already dead."

Will ran a hand through his hair and let out a puff of air. "Did anyone catch a glimpse of who did it?"

Alana shook her head. "The officials think that it may have been allies of the suspect. They must have been hiding in the bushes." There was an expanse of tall trees and bushes that surrounded the back side of the house and the ones around it. It was possible that whoever killed the agents was hiding there. There must have been something there that they were trying to protect-something that they didn't want the FBI to find.

Will nodded and started walking through the crowd. He had to see it for himself. Maybe he could find something that they couldn't.

Alana called after him, following behind him.

"Will, don't go back there! It's not safe!"

"Why else would you have called me out here?!" Will called back. "You know what I have to do!"

"Will, wait!"

He ignored her.

Nothing about his job was safe. He may have been taking a risk by going to the back yard, but that didn't matter. He had to take the chance. These vigilantes needed to be captured as soon as possible and that wasn't going to happen if they took everything carefully and slowly.

It was unlikely that they would shoot at him, anyway. They probably weren't in the area anymore, either. That would be reckless. It would be an unnecessary risk of capture and no one sane would do such a thing.

Except these vigilantes or whatever they were were not sane.

Will took his first step in the back yard. His heart was beating fast out of fear and anticipation. But what was he anticipating? Was he expecting someone to shoot at him? The possibility was still there, after all.

As he moved further into the yard, he could see that some of the grass was darker than the rest as if it had been stained with something. Stained with blood.

Will gulped and stepped further into the yard. The bodies had been left where they were as the agents, all four of them, had died before anyone could get to them. Two of the agents had died with their eyes open. Will shuddered slightly as he walked passed them, their eyes seeming to follow his every move.

The entire back yard had been vacated. Not a single agent dared to risk going back there, for the risk of ending up just like their colleagues was relatively high.

Except for him.

There was one crucial piece of information that he was missing, one that would mean all the matter in their case: which agent was shot first?

That agent was most likely dangerously close to whatever the vigilantes wished to hide. Or maybe he had already discovered it? Maybe there was something more hidden in those bushes that no one had bothered to search for.

Will removed his glasses and stared blankly at the scene before him. The only way was to _empathize_ with them.

Suddenly, Will became the criminals. Or _criminal_ rather. He could only empathize with one because there was only one.

* * *

**Rockford, Illinois**

**Wednesday, November 3rd, 1990**

**7:48 PM**

_The scene before him time-lapsed in reverse. The blood on the grass returned to their bodies, the sun rose back into the sky and the bodies vanished._

_And then he was in the bushes, about ten feet back into the green expanse with a pistol in his hand. He could see the four agents clearly from his position. They were searching for evidence-any lead that might give a clue as to who he was._

_He worked alone. There was no one else there to help him._

_This vigilante was not about to let something like a jail sentence keep him from eliciting his judgement on the wicked. They needed to be punished and he was the only one who could do it properly. It was all up to him._

_The criminal looked down and saw one of the agents peering through the trees as if there was something there hidden amongst the leaves that appeared unusual. He took a step into the woods, making his way through the vines and branches, making his way closer to the vigilante._

_And then he stopped. He squinted his eyes and jumped in surprise. The agent turned and jogged back towards the yard, back towards his comrades._

_He had just cleared the woods when a gun's shoots rang through the area. The agent was dead before he hit the ground with an audible thump._

_His comrades were suddenly alert. The one closest to him ran over to him, but before he realized that the man was already dead, he, too was shot. The remaining two, both women, panicked and drew their weapons, slowly backing up to leave the yard. The vigilante, of course, would not allow this to happen._

_He fired a shot at the woman on the right, a brunette, narrowly missing her. She shrieked and ran as fast as she could, her FBI jacket billowing around and behind her. The other woman ran as well, but tried to stay away from the first woman as possible. He fired a shot at her and she fell to the ground convulsing and gripping at her chest and gasping for air on the perfectly trimmed grass. Her blouse was stained with her blood where the bullet has pierced her and it was growing considerably larger. The other woman screamed and kept running. She was nearly out of the yard, nearly to safety. And then it was all over._

_The accuracy of the shot surprised the vigilante himself._

_The second woman had passed out. She would be dead within a few moments. The cowardly first woman was dead, shot clear through her brain._

_The vigilante admired her will to live, but in the end, it was not enough._

* * *

Will collapsed on the ground in the middle of the back yard, breathing hard and clutching his glasses tightly in his right hand. Sweat was running down the sides of his face in streams and his eyes were wide open.

This murder had not been as brutal as all of the others and yet, it still had a strong effect on him if not stronger. Becoming this criminal had been particularly difficult. He wasn't like the others. He wasn't consistent, he was complex, he was skilled. He was merciful to the innocent and unforgiving to the wicked. Those who got in his way would perish.

And at the same time, it seemed as if the criminal was protecting something. He was protecting something other than the community.

The more Will thought about it, the more tense he became, the more he had trouble calming down, the more he panicked. He panicked. He couldn't calm down. His heart was racing fast and it wouldn't slow down because of all of the adrenaline in his system.

Will gripped his chest and took deep breaths, but they didn't help. He silently pleaded for someone, anyone to come into the yard. Someone to calm him down and whisper soothing words to him as he attempted to regain control of himself.

He felt as if he would pass out when someone kneeled in front of him and gripped both of his shoulders. He thought that he could hear someone saying his name, but he couldn't recognize it.

Will lifted his head to meet the eyes of one Hannibal Lecter. Never before had he seen the man so concerned before.

"It's alright, Will," the man spoke in that famous accent of his. "It's alright." He repeated.

Will felt his heart fluctuate. He felt it stop for a moment.

And then it was beating at a regular pace again. His breathing had returned to normal.

He was calm.

Never once had he thought that Hannibal would be able to calm him down, but that was exactly what the man had just done. Will felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the man come over him. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Thank you." He said softly. Hannibal nodded and offered him a smile.

"You are quite welcome, Will."

Hannibal picked Will's glasses from the ground and held them out to him. Will took them gratefully and slid them back onto his face. Hannibal stood and offered his hand and Will took it, pulling himself up.

The two walked out of the back yard and were confronted by Crawford and Dr. Bloom.

"Are you alright, Will." Dr. Bloom asked him. Will nodded.

"I'm fine now, thanks to Dr. Lecter." Hannibal gave a slight incline of his head and smiled lightly.

"It was my pleasure."

The group maneuvered their way through the crowd of agents, Will in particular receiving many strange looks, but he was used to it by now. When they had reached the car, Jack took the opportunity to speak up.

"What did you see, Will?" He asked the special agent.

Will sighed and looked down at his feet. "I...I saw him kill them." He said softly. "I could feel that he was trying to hide something, or rather, trying to protect something. I'm not sure what."

Jack nodded and walked over to the drivers side of the vehicle.

"Do you know where he might be hiding whatever it is?"

Will nodded and looked up."Whatever it is in the forest. The criminal is desperate to protect it now. One of the agents that had been killed must have seen it. He'll probably be there to protect it."

"We can check it out tomorrow." Jack said. "It's not safe to go out there right now and based on what I've seen, I don't think any of the other agents think it's safe, either." The man got in the car. Alana sat in the passengers seat, leaving Will and Hannibal in the back seat.

Will leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling of the car.

* * *

Sometime during the ride, he had fallen asleep and was shaken awake by Hannibal. He reluctantly got out of the car and made his way into the hotel with the others.

He would have ran into a wall if it weren't for Hannibal steering him in the right direction. Since when was he so tired? It was late, but he hadn't actually felt tired until now.

When they got out of the elevator, Will was the last one out. He was moving so slowly, the doors almost closed on him, much to his dismay. He said good night to Jack and Alana, who retreated to their own rooms and dragged his feet all the way to his and Hannibal's shared room. As soon as he had gotten inside, he collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to remove his coat or shoes or get under the covers, for that matter.

He did eventually remove them and dress in proper sleepwear because Hannibal kept insisting, practically begging, actually for him to do so all while disposing of the dinner they had left behind in a hurry and moving the table back to it's original spot in the room.

Will didn't understand why it bothered the man so much. It wasn't as if Hannibal would be sleeping _with_ him.

_Now, there's a thought, _Will thought to himself. He quickly shook the thought out of his head as soon as the images began running through.

Not even a moment after he had gotten in his bed, he was out like a light.

* * *

**A/N: ** I hope you all liked this chapter. Please be sure to leave a review and give any feedback that you have to offer. If you have any ideas for the plot, be sure to add those in, too and I'll take them into consideration.

As usual, no flames, please, and thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: The Motive

A/N: Everything is still going pretty well with this story. Here you go. Another chapter! Yay! I hope you guys like this one, too. Enjoy!

**This is My Design**

by KayYaoi

**Chapter 3: The Motive**

Will didn't dream for most of the time while he was asleep. There were no nightmares to haunt him that night, no dead eyes staring blankly at him, no blood, no screams. As you could imagine, Will was very pleased when he woke up early the next morning completely dry and not panting from the nightmares.

Three years. It had been three years since he had gone a night without a nightmare. Three years since he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat. Three years since he had been able to sleep all the way through the night. It felt damn good to get a decent amount of sleep for once and Will certainly felt better than he had in, well, years.

Hannibal had been surprised by Will's enlightened mood. He had been particularly eager to help Hannibal cook breakfast. Hannibal, of course, was delighted to see that Will was interested in cooking and gladly agreed to let him. He explained to Will how everything needed to be cooked and stood back and watched him.

Will knew how to cook, but not nearly as well as Hannibal. What the other man could whip up in mere minutes would take any normal person twice if not three times the time to do the same and the taste was always unfathomably delicious.

Will stirred the eggs in the pan with the plastic spoon the hotel had provided them with. His movements were erratic and clumsy and he almost laughed aloud at his efforts. He could feel a grin creeping its way onto his lips and didn't try to suppress it.

He felt warm hands cover his own and tensed. Hannibal leaned forward over his shoulder so that he could see what he was doing and took control over Will's stirring, moving the agent's hand with his own so that his movements were more elegant and careful.

Will could feel a blush rising to his cheeks and he tried his best not to look at Hannibal, tried his best to suppress the blush so that Hannibal wouldn't see it. The other man was so close. Hannibal's chest was practically pressed against his back. He could feel the heat radiating off of him in hypnotic waves and with every carefully executed stir he could feel his blush deepening.

Hannibal's hands felt surprisingly soft on the back of his hands and they were gently with their guidance.

Will suddenly wondered what it would feel like to have those hands touching him, gliding across his skin and caressing him. He had to stifle the soft moan that threatened to escape his lips. He could feel himself getting aroused and tried to shake the thought out of his head, but it wouldn't go away. He could feel himself tensing up and shivering every time Hannibal brushed up behind him.

He was sure that Hannibal had noticed by now. The man was always observant like that.

The eggs were done in all of their bright yellow, golden deliciousness, and Will felt a wave of relief wash over him as Hannibal removed his hands from his own and stepped back.

Will just stood in the same spot and stared at the eggs. They were like the eggs that Hannibal would bring with him some mornings, warm and fluffy with chopped vegetables and sausage pieces mixed in. It brought him a bit of comfort to have something familiar meet him for once. Familiarity, more often than not, helped to keep him sane.

"Will." The special agent heard his name being called by his psychiatrist. He turned to face the man, only to find him standing there only about a foot away. The man loomed over him a few inches, staring down at him intently. It was an expression Will had not seen before and he suddenly felt uneasy. A wave of nervousness washed over him and he suddenly wished that he were far, far away, walking in the open field by his house with his dogs in tow. Oh, yes. That would be much calmer.

"Y-yes?" Will couldn't help his stuttering. "What is it?" Hannibal stepped even further into his personal space. Will felt his bubble burst. It was the amount of space that he absolutely had to have. No one was allowed to get closer than that.

But Hannibal had.

Will began trembling as the other man leaned down and whispered in his ear. "What really has caused your sudden enlightened mood?" Hannibal said, his voice was like velvet, sounding out each word, each letter so smoothly. It was a delicious sound to Will's ears.

"W-what do you mean?" Will said. He mentally cursed himself for stuttering again. Hannibal should not be having this effect on him. He felt a hand gliding up his arm and resting on the nape of his neck. Will audibly gulped. His blush once again returned to his cheeks and within moments were flushed bright red.

"My presence here with you has had a rather positive effect on you," said Hannibal. "Do not try to deny this, dear Will, for you have been blushing all throughout this morning." Will stiffened at that. So he had seen afterall.

Hannibal leaned in close, his lips only centimeters away from Will's own. He could feel the breath of the other man dance across his face as he spoke. The hand on his nape now rested on his cheek. Will's eyes were lidded. It took everything in his control to keep himself from leaning forward the rest of the way and pressing his lips against his psychiatrist's.

"Now, why don't you tell me why that is?"

Will leaning back as much as he could, trying to recover as much personal space as possible. His breath hitched when Hannibal wrapped his other arm around his waist and pulled him upright against him. Will used his hands to salvage the remaining space between them for they were undeniably close.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Will shouted, but it was more like a harsh whisper. He felt himself become strangely excited and intrigued by the situation and all the more nervous. Hannibal was unpredictable, and it frightened Will that whatever Hannibal could do next would be unexpected.

Hannibal smiled down at him, his grip loosening. "Is that so?" He said. He leaned forward close enough that his lips could brush against Will's own. The smell of the psychiatrist's expensive cologne filled his senses and made him feel slightly dizzy. Will once against fought the urge to press their lips together.

"I do believe that you do know what I am referring to," said Hannibal, "and I will stop at nothing to get the answers that I desire from you." Will audibly gulped as the man stepped back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, recollecting himself.

When Will opened his eyes again, Hannibal was on the other side of the room setting down plates on a small table moved between their beds, acting nonchalant as if he didn't just try to seduce Will.

Will sighed. He could still feel Hannibal's hands touching him and he now had a half strength erection.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Jack, Alana, Hannibal and Will were all packed into Jack's car later that morning, their eyes heavy from their late night visit to the crime scene the night before. Well, except for Hannibal, who always seemed to have plenty of energy, whether or not he got eight hours of sleep or two hours of sleep.

Will groaned inwardly when Jack began to speak. The last thing that he wanted to talk about at the moment was the case.

"So, Will," he began. "Give me a profile on this guy. What's his motive?"

Will slumped against the car door and blanky stared ahead. "Like I said before, he's a vigilante. He thinks himself to be serving justice upon the wicked. He punishes those that he sees as wicked or evil."

"Hm, I see. Anything else?"

Will shrugged. "Not really. He's a bit more complex of a thinker than your average criminal, but not quite enough to cover his own tracks in all ways possible and avoid careless mistakes."

"Well, at least we know that whoever they are, they are most likely from this community. All attacks that we believe lead back to the suspect occur within a fifteen mile radius of the latest crime scene."

Will sat up in his seat suddenly, leaning forward towards the front of the car. "Why this crime scene?" He said. "Could there be a connection to this crime scene and all of the others?"

"A pattern?" Alana said, turning in her seat so that she could look back at the profiler. Will nodded.

"We'll need a map of the whole city and where the crimes occurred," Jack spoke up. "If there is a pattern as far as the location goes, we just might be able to find it and catch this bastard."

"And maybe the profiles of all of the victims." Alana added. "Maybe there is something that they all have in common that draws the suspect to them."

"Good thinking." Jack said. Will leaned back in his seat. "Besides their 'criminal' backgrounds, there might be something else about them that puts them on the vigilante's hit list."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were back at the crime scene. There were much fewer agents there then than last night. Will felt more at ease at that.

A few minutes later, Beverly Katz found them and told them about a mysterious building that they had found deep in the woods. She had just came from there where she had been searching for evidence that might trace back to the suspect.

"There's a bunch of agents scouting around there." She said. "Most were pretty psyched when we busted through the door. I swear, I haven't seen anything that bizarre in a long while. Might wanna brace yourselves for this one."

Katz lead them behind the house and into the woods. The sun shined brightly down through the leaves of the trees in patches that lit up the forest floor. They crossed over a stream, some five feet below the terrain, using a fallen tree as a bridge, much to Will's dismay. He nearly slipped and fell, but Hannibal managed to catch him around the waist and pull him close.

Will blushed and muttered a soft thanks to the man before pulling out of his grip and walking the rest of the way across.

They eventually reached a circular clearing where the grass dotted the area in bright green patches. Dead center in the middle of the clearing was a large wooden shed with a dark red metal rooftop that reminded Will of blood. Will began to wonder if it were actually painted with blood.

"There it is," said Katz. "Crazy's lair." A grimace expression crossed her face.

"I'll wait out here while you guys are inside. Be warned: there's some crazy shit in there."

Jack chuckled at that. "I'm sure we can handle it just fine."

"I can't." Alana spoke up. "All of this is making me nervous. I'm staying out here."

Jack chuckled again and led the other two men away, walking towards the shed.

The closer they got to the shed, the more anxious Will got. Something didn't feel right. He wanted to run away. He wanted to get as far away from the shed as possible, but he just couldn't. It was his job to look, and whatever it was that was in there, he needed to see it.

Jack and Hannibal entered the shed through the doorway first.

"What the-" was all Will heard as he entered the shed. He froze. He couldn't move. He was paralyzed. He felt ill.

Pasted on the walls were strands of hair, bloodied, sometimes with parts of the scalp remaining. They were fingers and toes sitting in jars of some sort of liquid on shelves, all labeled with various names. There were notes scattered about the floor with pictures of men and women alike, crossed out, circled, ripped, annotated. And in the center of the room was a scale of justice, marked out with white chalk and then painted over in red. Lying in the middle of the scale, between the uneven bowls, was a young woman, impaled and nailed to the floor with knives through her hands and abdomen, her white and black dress stained with her own dried, caked blood, and her eyes closed as if she was resting.

It was all too much for Will to bear. He could hear screams of terror, fear and agony in his head. He could feel pain shooting through his head. He felt himself swaying from side to side. His already damaged mind could not handle the scene before him.

Will rushed out of the shed, running a few feet before collapsing and heaving up the contents from his stomach onto the ground. He stood and tried to walk again, only collapsing again after a few more steps and rolling onto his back.

Will could hear them calling his name, muffled out. He could see someone kneel down beside him and take him into their arms.

The last thing he remembered was the feeling of silken fabric against his cheek before he passed out.

* * *

A/N: I hope you all liked this chapter. I meant to finish it last week, but...

Anyway, I hope you all are still enjoying the story and I hope to hear from you. Do tell me what you thought and feel free to suggest so plot ideas.


	4. Chapter 4: Who's Seducing Who?

A/N: Terribly sorry to keep you all waiting! I meant to have this written and posted a while ago. Here we go! Chapter 4! Thanks for all of the reviews, everyone.

**This is My Design**  
by Kayyaoi

Chapter 4: Who's Seducing Who?

When Will came to he found himself lying on his back, staring up drowsily at a white ceiling. He squinted his eyes as the room was bright and staring at a white ceiling wasn't going to make that any better. He was lying in a bed, Will wasn't sure where, though. Probably at the hotel.

The first thing that Will noticed was the throbbing pain in his head. The second thing was the ache and an empty feeling in his stomach. The third was the presence of two others in the room.

He could make out two voices in a heated conversation. It took Will a moment to recognize who the voices belonged to and decided to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep as not to alert them.

"No way." Said Jack. "I need him on this case." Jack's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as he glared furiously at the other.

"But, Jack, I must insist that Will take a short leave from the field." Said Hannibal with his thick, foreign accent. "He was physically ill this time. All of this exposure to murder is not good for his mind-"

"The hell if I care!" Jack butt in as soon as Hannibal finished his sentence. "Doctor Lecter, this man here-Will can solve these cases better than anyone and right now I need his help with this one." There was a brief pause; the room went dead silent. Neither of the men made a sound for what seemed like minutes. And then Will heard Hannibal take a deep breath.

"Jack," he began. "I know how valuable Will is to you, but I cannot allow him to continue on like this." There was another pause and Will began to worry if Jack would suddenly lash out at Hannibal again.

"As his psychiatrist, it is my duty to ensure that Will's mind is stable, and as his friend, it is my responsibility to look out for him."

Jack sighed and flicked his eyes over to the resting form of Will Graham and studying him for a moment as if he had come to a sudden realization. He gave up. He nodded his head a few times before returning his gaze to Hannibal.

"You're right." He said simply, sounding defeated. He ran a hand over his millimeter long hair before letting fall back at his side with a soft plop.

"I'll give him some time off. He deserves it more than anyone. He can come back once you see him fit." Jack turned and faced the door, walking a few short steps before stopping at looking back over his shoulder at Hannibal.

"Take good care of him, Doctor. He's fragile." With that, Jack left and returned to his own rooms, leaving Will and Hannibal alone.

Once he was sure that Jack had gone, Hannibal walked over to Will's bed and loomed over his resting form. A small smile crossed his features as sat down on the edge of the bed next to Will, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. He lifted a hand up and rested it in the profiler's messy brunette locks and stroked his scalp softly. Will took a sharp intake of air and tried to remain as silent as possible as the man massaged his scalp. Hannibal leaned down slowly, the bed creaking ever so slightly with his movements as he dragged the covers down to expose Will's ears. He drew the hand in Will's locks down to his shoulder and he leaned close to his right ear and inhaled the man's scent. He smelled sweet and feverish. He smelled of encephalitis. Hannibal smirked.

"My dear Will," he whispered huskily, yet softly into the profiler's ear. "Did you believe that I would not notice your eavesdropping on Jack and I's conversation?" Will stiffened. Hannibal noticed.

"Ah, so you are awake." Hannibal pulled back and watched as Will opened his eyes and stared up at him.

"How did you know?" Will said softly. Hannibal merely smiled at him.  
"I have my ways, dear Will."

Hannibal stood and walked off somewhere in the room.

Will sat up, palming his eyes with his hands and yawning before letting them fall back to his lap. When he opened his eyes again, Hannibal was there holding a plastic cup full of water and a bottle of asprin out to him. Will muttered a soft thanks as he took the contents from the doctor's hands, careful to make sure that their fingers didn't touch.  
Will poured out two tablets, placed them on his tongue and downed them with the water. He handed the glass and pills back to Hannibal before reaching out to the nightstand for his glasses. He ran his hands expectantly over the wooden surface, but his fingers never met with the metal frames. Will sighed knowing he would have to ask for Hannibal help.  
"Hannibal, have you-" He had no chance to finish his sentence, for within an instance, Hannibal was standing right in front of him, holding his glasses out to him by the bridge. Will took them from him and offered the man a quick smile before slipping the frames on.  
Hannibal walked over to his own bed and sat down facing Will, his hands clenched together and his arms resting on his lap.

"As, I'm sure, you already know," Hannibal began. "Jack has given you time off from the field to recover." Will nodded. He was a bit reluctant to take time off, despite all that had happened, but it would seem that he had no choice.

"I also mentioned to Jack that you would be coming to stay with me for a while." Will jolted up at that and got out of his bed, standing up.

"No way. There's no way I'm staying with you." Will said, his voice becoming increasingly louder. "I'm perfectly fine on my own, thank you, and more than capable of living on my own!" Will began to sway, he tried to gain his balance, but found that he couldn't. Hannibal reacted quickly, standing up and grabbing the man by the waist to steady him, but Will resisted. Hannibal let him go and the profiler fell back against his bed.

"W-what did you do to me?" Will asked him. "What's happening to me?"  
"I assure you, Will, this is not my doing." Hannibal helped Will get into a more comfortable position and propped his head up with a few pillows. There was a throbbing pain in Will's head again, mainly on the left side, his vision focused in and out, his entire body felt hot. It was like he was burning.

"H-hannibal?" The man came around the corner with an orange bottle with a white cap and another plastic cup of water. Hannibal opened the bottle and poured two pills out into the cap as he approached. The doctor set the bottle down on the nightstand in between their beds and slipped a hand behind Will's head. He held up the cap in front of Will's face so that he could see the contents inside.

"Your burning up." Hannibal noticed. "Will, I need you to take these now. They'll make you feel better. Do you trust me?"

Will hesitated for a moment before finally nodding as best as he could. "Yes," he managed to say, his voice raspy. "I trust you."

Will held lifted his hand and Hannibal tipped the cap so that the pills fell out into his hand. Will popped the pills into his mouth and reached out for the cup of water in Hannibal's hand. Hannibal held onto the cup the whole time as he drank to ensure that he wouldn't spill it.

When Will was done drinking, Hannibal set the cup down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of Will's bed, laying the back of his hand on the profiler's forehead.

"Your fever's already starting to go down." He said, removing his hand and standing up. He lifted the covers up from under Will and pulled them up to his chin.

"Try to get some rest. There is no need for you to do any extra harm to your body."  
Will nodded, not feeling up to protesting at the moment. It wasn't long before he was drifting off into sleep.

* * *

When Will awoke again, he found himself in a new setting. At first he thought that he was in his bedroom, but soon ruled that out when he felt the satin sheets against his skin. He sat up, rubbing his eyes until he felt fully awake and then reaching out for his glasses. Fortunately, they were next to the bed on the nightstand this time. He slipped the frames onto his eyes and blinked once.

The room was partially lit by the sunlight coming in through the curtained windows. The walls were a deep shade of red, almost like blood. The bed itself was dressed in burgundy sheets that were smooth to the touch and gleamed from the light. Will swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, finding that the weakness was gone. He was dressed in a different set of clothes, much fancier than anything that he owned and they were just a set of pajamas. It made him uncomfortable to know that someone had undressed him and he shivered at the thought. The floor was hardwood and the coolness of it felt nice under Will's feet.

He walked to the door, grasping onto the handle, turning it, and pulling the door open. He was met with the sound of music playing, echoing through the house. Will felt himself drawn to the music and searched about to find its source. He went around the corner and found a staircase, descending each step slowly so that he wouldn't make too much noise.  
As he neared the bottom of the staircase, he could see as well as hear the source of the tune, and then he realized where he was. The man had his back to him as his fingers danced over the keys of the harpsichord and Will couldn't help but be mesmirized.

He walked towards the man, shuffling his feet against the wooden floor. He was about three feet or so away when the man stopped playing, his fingers hovering over the keys for a moment before relaxing and falling to his lap.

"Good afternoon, Will." The man said, turning in his seat to face him. Hannibal offered Will a soft smile and stood. "I'm glad to see that you're finally awake. Come. I've made lunch."

Will followed the man through the house to the kitchen and watched by the doorway as he began to pull plates wrapped in plastic and set them down on the granite topped island. He walked over so that he could see what the man had made, standing on the opposite side of the island.

Surprisingly, Hannibal had made sandwiches. Will had never thought that the man would make something so common and traditional, but apparently he had jumped to conclusions to quickly again. But then again, this was Hannibal, after all. He had probably made the bread himself or cooked the meat or added special herbs that Will had never heard of the compliment the condiments. Will wouldn't be surprised if Hannibal had made those as well, but he would be impressed.

He hadn't realized that Hannibal had been watching him until he looked up and met the man's gaze. Will raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've been unconscious for five days, Will, I am merely concerned."

Will snorted at that. "Concerned?" He began. "If you were really concerned, you would have taken me to the doctor."

"I am a doctor, Will." Hannibal retaliated. "With my medical knowledge, I could have easily taken as good of care of you as any doctor in the hospital could, if not better." Hannibal reached up and pulled the door open of a nearby cabinet and brought out two glasses, closing the door afterwards. He set them down on the counter and opened the refrigerator, bringing out a pitcher of what appeared to be, to Will, lemonade. Hannibal filled both of the glasses about half way, set the pitcher off to the side and pushed one glass over towards Will.

Will picked up the glass and inspected it. He trusted the doctor, sure, but due to the man's recent uncharacteristic behavior, he has to double check on certain things. Hannibal watched him expectantly as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. He was met with a tangy wave of flavor that flowed over his tongue in a cool wave and made him shiver. He stared down at the glass, a smile creeping at his lips and raised the glass to his lips again, taking a much larger swig of the lemonade. He swallowed it down and let out a breath of satisfaction.

"Wow, that's good." He finally said.

"Thank you," Hannibal, said. "I made it myself."

"Could you show me how?"

"Maybe some other time."

Hannibal pushed a plate towards Will, a sandwich placed in the middle, cut in half and drawn apart to show the layers.

"As you can see, I've made sandwiches for lunch," Hannibal began. "Turkey on whole wheat with Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a special secret sauce." Will particularly liked the way that Hannibal described his dishes, straightforward and simple, but still managing to make your mouth water at the thought.

Will hadn't realized that he had been staring until Hannibal reached across the counter and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jumped at the contact and Hannibal pulled his hand away, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you alright, Will?"

"I'm fine." Will replied quickly, pulling his plate a little closer. He took one of the halves of the sandwich into his hand and bit into from the corner.

He hasn't just been staring at the man's hands or his forehead this time, he was actually staring into his eyes. Will hated eye contact more than many things. He found them distracting and uncomfortable to look at, but this time he had actually initiated it.  
"How is it?"

"What? Oh, it's good." Will said, swallowing. "You're an amazing cook, you know." Hannibal smiled at him and began tucking into his meal as well. They ate in silence, exchanging glances and sneaking looks at one another, but neither saying a word.

After lunch, they sat in the parlor. Hannibal on the wooden bench at his harpsichord and Will sitting on the couch to his left. Will listened as Hannibal played another tune, quite unlike the one from earlier. Each note danced on the air like a leaf in autum, but the tune itself was dramatic and menacing.

At the end of the song, Will was still watching him, still staring at the man when he cleared his throat and stood. Will blushed and looked down at his clenched hands resting in his lap. His cheeks felt like they were on fire and practically looked as if they were.

Hannibal took a seat next to him on the couch, leaning back against the smooth cushions and staring out into the parlor. He cleared his throat.

"I can't help but notice you're staring lately."

"Please don't." Will said, bringing his hands up to his face to cover it. "I don't want to talk about this. Not right now."

"But you must."

Then there was silence. Many seconds passed before Hannibal spoke again.

"You know, Will," he began. "Studies say that looking someone in the eyes for six seconds or more may reveal a desire for sex or to commit murder. In the kitchen you made eye contact with me for over six seconds. Do you wish to kill me, Will?"

"No, of course not." Will said, his voice was muffled by his hands as they slid down his face and rested in his lap. The question was almost laughable. Of course he didn't want to kill Hannibal. The man was his friend and although he could be irritating at times, Will never actually felt like killing him. Why would the man bring up such a thing?

"Then you wish to have sex with me?"

Oh. Will hadn't been expecting that. He whipped his head around to look at Hannibal. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hannibal, his psychiatrist, was actually suggesting that he wanted to have sex with him. Had the world lost its mind?

"What?" He finally said, a bit louder than he meant to. It echoed though out the room twice.

"Forgive me if my assumptions are wrong, this is innapropriate on my behalf."

"You think?" Will said.

"I could help but notice the signs, Will." Hannibal said. "Your elevation in mood, your sudden interest in the culinary arts, your blushing, your staring, I even believe that I may have heard you moan quietly while we were making breakfast last-"

"That's enough!" Will said, now standing an pacing back and forth in front of the couch, staring at the floor as if it had offended him. "You-you talk about these things as if its natural-normal to talk about these things. Don't you have any shame Hannibal?" He stopped directly in front of the man, glaring at his forehead.

Hannibal stood and stepped into Will's personal space. Will tried to back away, but Hannial already had an arm looped around his waist and a hand on his shoulder. He stared intently at the profiler and the profiler stared right back, eyes rapidly analyzing his face.

The hand on his shoulder moved to his nape and before he could realize what was happening, let alone get a word out, warm lips were being pressed against his.

Will gasped and Hannibal took that as the opportunity to slip his tongue into the other's mouth. Will's knees nearly gave out under him when there tongues touched and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Hannibal's neck and closed his eyes. Hannibal was able to hold him up as he was slipping. The psychiatrist's hands were on his back, drawing circles and gripping the fabric that covered it. His design.

When they finally broke for air, Will was panting in Hannibal's arms, his cheeks bright red and his eyes lided. He could feel his own erection straining at the fabric of his pajama bottoms, already half strength. He felt Hannibal's hands slipping off of him and his eyes went open and he became suddenly alert. The man stepped away and Will watched him in disbelief.

"I have no shame, Will," the man said, "but you do." He gestured to Will's crotch.  
"Hannibal." Will said, the neediness clear in his voice. "Please."

Hannibal only returned him a blank look, that same blank expression that drove him mad because he couldn't tell what the man was feeling. It was like he was mocking him, laughing at him inside his head and it pissed Will off.

"Soon, but not now. Not until I have the answers that I desire from you." And with that, the man left, gracing back into the kitchen. Will stared after him in a disbelief until standing become uncomfortable.

He had a little problem to take care of.

* * *

A/N: Wow! Sorry this is so late, everyone. I got a bit distracted and I had writer's block, blah blah blah. At least this chapter's a bit longer than the others!  
Anywho, tell me what you thought of this chapter because I'm not really sure how it turned out. If it did turn out bad, please let me know. If it was fine, let me know. The next chapter will be coming out much sooner, I promise!


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